After I Became The Perfect Husband, She Broke Down Chapter 02

I went back to my room and took down the wedding photo from the wall.

My fingertips brushed over its surface.

On our wedding night, the system announced that I had completed my mission.

It sent me an invitation to leave this world.

Over the years, I’d said plenty of sweet words to win Vivian over.

But somewhere along the way, a bit of sincerity had slipped into those sweet words.

That night, I felt miserable for hours.

In the middle of the night, with liquid courage, I worked up the nerve to tell Vivian,

“Actually, I’m just a passerby in your life.”

“Someday you’ll meet the real leading man.”

“He’ll be gentle, steady, charming—better than me in more ways than I can count.”

Vivian’s eyes went red at once.

She pulled me into her arms.

She buried her face in my neck, her voice hoarse but firm.

“I don’t want some gentle, steady, charming man.”

“The only leading man in my life is you.”

“I love you just the way you are. I love being managed by you.”

I was completely swept off my feet.

That night, happiness clouded my head, and I ignored the system’s repeated invitations.

I forgot that people change.

Five years passed in a blink.

Elliot walked into her life, just as expected.

And her heart tilted toward him, bit by bit.

She started complaining that I wasn’t generous enough, that I couldn’t work a room.

That I was too controlling, that I didn’t give her enough freedom.

She complained about all my flaws, that I wasn’t perfect enough.

In the end, I was the only one who remembered the promise from our wedding night.

The front door suddenly banged hard.

I flinched. The wedding photo fell to the floor and shattered.

The knocking didn’t stop.

I hurried over the broken pieces and pulled the door open.

Vivian grabbed my arm and pulled me outside.

Seeing how frantic she was, I frowned,

“Where are we going?”

Vivian turned back, a dark cloud over her eyes.

“The hospital. Elliot ate the cake you made. Something happened.”

In the hospital room, our daughter Nina was holding a cup of water.

She stood on her toes and feed it to Elliot, sip by sip.

It was treatment I had never received.

For five years, I was sick in bed, unable to move, asking Nina for a glass of water.

She would only turn her head away coldly.

“I have to draw. Get it yourself.”

Back then, I thought it was because she was too young to know better.

Now I knew. It was just that the father she liked wasn’t me.

When I walked into the room, Elliot flinched.

His eyes went red as he apologized.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault for being too close to Vivian. It’s all my fault.”

Hearing that, Nina immediately stepped in front of Elliot, her small face full of warning.

“You evil, horrible man! Elliot is kind and good.”

“You’re jealous of him, so you gave him a cake full of glass shards?”

My heart jolted. I asked calmly, “What cake?”

Nina stomped her foot in anger.

“Stop playing innocent! I saw you deliver that cake yourself!”

“It even had your handwritten card on it! You almost killed Elliot!”

“Someone like you doesn’t deserve to be my dad!”

I was used to it by now, but the child’s words still cut into my heart.

I looked at Vivian.

“Do you believe it too?”

Vivian didn’t answer.

But the disappointment in her eyes already gave me my answer.

I suddenly found it ridiculous.

A few days ago, I’d hurt my hand cooking for Vivian.

My right hand had been wrapped in bandages ever since.

I couldn’t even lift a pen, let alone write a card, much less make a cake myself.

If either Vivian or our daughter had noticed the injury on my right hand, they’d know how absurd the lie was.

But now, the two of them stood beside Elliot, united against me.

They made me look like the outsider.

I looked at my daughter and smiled calmly.

“Since you don’t think I deserve to be your dad, I’ll leave now.”

“I won’t get in your way.”